


Cards on the Table

by sarcasticsra



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticsra/pseuds/sarcasticsra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A job's a job, but a girl's gotta be smart about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cards on the Table

**Author's Note:**

> For the POI Advent Calendar!

The guy Lexi’s been hired to roll is sitting in one of the booths; he’s kind of schlubby, not much to look at, like he could be someone’s accountant—but still, she’s been with way worse, and a job’s a job.

She takes a stool at the bar and sizes him up. He doesn’t seem like the type where playing the victim would work, so faking a breakup or some other kind of crisis he could easily fix is out. Brazen might get her in the door, but she’s betting only just—he seems fairly guarded, even just sitting there alone, eating.

Except that’s not right—he’s not alone. There’s another place setting. A younger guy shows up a moment later, pretty hot; somehow the scar on his face just makes him hotter. Italian, probably, with coloring like that

She watches them interact for a few minutes before cursing out her boss in a couple languages, especially German. German’s one of the most satisfying languages to curse in.

Jesus Christ. How could he have missed this? They’re obviously fucking, with body language like that. It’s subtle, sure, but eighty percent of her job is body language. Even if he swings both ways, he’s picked his team, at least for the time being. Either her boss is a fucking moron or he was _trying_ to get her killed; no matter which it is, it’s unacceptable. 

Rolling her eyes, she orders a glass of red wine from the bar and takes it with her once it arrives. “Sorry to interrupt, boys,” she says, sitting down next to the Italian guy—it’s a purposeful gesture, one she thinks they’ll notice. “But apparently my boss is a goddamn idiot and I don’t work for idiots. Got any openings? I think I might have some information you could use.”

Accountant-guy suddenly looks much less like an accountant, with that gleam in his eye, and the smirk Italian-guy levels at him could probably set something on fire. Ah, fuck. They made her. Still, she’s laid her cards on the table. She takes a sip of her wine and keeps her expression even.

“We were wondering which route you’d go,” he says. “Anthony here just lost our bet.”

“You seem pretty happy about losing,” she notes, and he just smirks again, even sharper. Goddamn, he is _hot_. 

“It’s not a bet I mind losing.”

She knows it’s a lost cause, but even so, she can’t help the flirtatious edge to her tone when she replies, “Sounds like a good bet.” Anthony just looks amused.

“Well then,” not-quite-accountant-guy cuts in, pointed, “Alexis, is it? I think we have a little business to discuss. Are you hungry?”

There it is again, that gleam, intelligence and hunger—she thinks it might help explain what Anthony here sees in this guy. It’s a hell of a lot more interesting than the whole mild-mannered shtick he has going, that’s for sure.

“I could eat,” she agrees.

This is going to be fun.


End file.
